Just Sayin' Hi.

Hi.

I have nothing too important to say... I just realized that it's been a few days and maybe you stopped by to see how we're doing. So here are some random thoughts, presented to you strictly in the order they pop into my head:

(1) We are interviewing for a SECOND live-in housemaid. Yes, I can hear you laughing / snorting / clicking the "close window" button. I admit that it's nauseatingly indulgent. But in my defense, Lalaine didn't work out (she officially quit today because her morning job was modified into a morning-afternoon job) (or so she said; she probably just got sick of Screamer's incessant put-downs), and it costs JUST AS MUCH to have another person live with us as it did to have someone come for a few hours on weekday afternoons (you pay significantly less in salary when you are also offering visa sponsorship and accommodation). Furthermore, we could really use some help with cooking (I had planned to learn to cook when we got settled in Dubai, but then I remembered that eating bores me). So we will put ourselves back onto the meat market and hope we find another love match. (Raquel + us = TLF.)

(2) Met my second Dubai pediatrician today. Baby is sporting a diaper rash that actually causes you to instinctively avert your eyes. I would have gone back to Dr. K. (he was right! it wasn't the mumps! the swelling did go away! I will not picket his office with "MARGINALLY QUALIFIED PHYSICIAN PRACTICES HERE" signs!) but there were closer options (it's not a weekend, so we had more to choose from). This time, I ended up with a female Egyptian general practitioner. When I told her that I had already tried, to no avail, the Nystatin that had been prescribed by our U.S. doctor before we left, she looked at me like I had nine heads. So either the East or the West does NOT know diaper rash. We will find out: I am giving her Locoid hydrocortisone a try. (Attention all Western doctors! If, upon hearing the Egyptian lady's suggested course of treatment, you are right now looking at your computer as if it has nine heads, please contact me immediately.)

(3) Daddy bought a car! Supposedly. This time, he CLAIMS that he bought a fully-loaded 2009 black GMC Yukon, which will be delivered next week. But keep in mind that, 4 weeks ago, he also "bought" a BMW, which somehow never materialized (something about better deals, small deposit, blah, blah, blah, I'm not listening until the car being purchased is MINE) (have I mentioned that I have driven a car for a cumulative 15 MINUTES in TWO MONTHS? It's like I've got my driver's permit all over again, and I'm perpetually standing pathetically at the front door, waiting for some adult to get home from work so I can drive around the block. Let me say this clearly: MOMMY NEEDS WHEELS. I shudder to think of the psychological damage it is causing me to have been cruelly stripped of the independence that had been so generously bestowed upon me by the DMV back at the tender age of 17). Until then, when the Yukon (BMW, Prius, Ferrari, whatever) shows up, 8 people will continue to share 1 cruddy rented minivan.

(4) The Germans LOVE us! Listen to this text message that I received from the mom last week after we'd gone over to their house for dinner a few hours prior: "You know, I really have to renew my ideas about the Americans. You are all so fun and sweet! Good to have you here!" Awwwwwww. Is this when I'm supposed to respond in kind that I'm also having to renew my ideas about GERMANS, or would that be revealing too much?

(5) Daddy and I are going to a "Democrats Abroad UAE" cocktail hour and dinner Tuesday night from 7 pm-11 pm to watch the inauguration live on big screen tvs. The cost was US $70/person, which I thought was a pretty good deal (unless the event is, as PopPop only half-jokingly suspects, a trap designed to identify potentially dangerous liberal Americans to the government, in which case, I would say we overpaid).

(6) Sushi and Screamer have started ballet classes here. I had to lie to get both of them placed; the classes are technically for kids age 3 and up, so I "misspoke" and said that Sushi was almost 4 (kind of true) and that Screamer was almost 3 (not even remotely true). What I didn't anticipate was that when we go to Screamer's class to pick her up, there are, you know, at least 3 kids in there who are *Sushi's* classmates at nursery school, and who are more than happy to loudly acknowledge said coincidence. But I have told all of those knuckleheads that there is a major bribe coming their way in 2 weeks if they can keep our little secret to themselves (is it wrong to exploit the fact that a 3-year-old has no concept of time?). Meanwhile, we are enjoying the classes while they last: Sushi tells us all about the "flower dance" and "butterfly dance" that she learned, and Screamer animatedly describes to us, in excruciating sensory detail, the gummy bear (singular!) or marshmallow that she received from the teacher as a reward when class was over. Hey, we weren't all born to be ballerinas.

I'd say more but, once again, it's midnight and the children show no mercy come 6:30 am. So off I go... relieved about the tentative cease-fire in Gaza of course... and excited about Obama, godspeed, my friend. See you on the other side of George W. Bush! BOOYA!